Stained (Ramsay Bolton
by Kiara Biersack
Summary: Maygen Baelish is the only daughter of Lord Petyr Baelish. A legitimized bastard, no one quite knows who Maygen's mother is. When Maygen was only four, she was taken as a ward by Petyr's close friend and first love, Catelyn Stark. Now fifteen, Maygen has been forced into an arranged marriage with Theon Greyjoy, the only remaining son of Balon. Gods know that she doesn't love him.
1. Prologue

Maygen Baelish had been a ward to Starks for as long as she could remember. She did not remember much of her father, but Lady Catelyn was always there to tell stories of him from when they were children. She knew that her father owned brothels, and that he made quite a lot of money from this business. Every little thing she knew about her father was from what Lady Catelyn had told her. And, of course, from the letters he wrote her every so often. Nameday letters were a promise, but sometimes there would be surprise letters from when he had a chance to write.

She did not know her mother. In his letters, her father described her as a beautiful woman who could not remain in one place for too long. Her mother had left when Maygen was one, and had never been heard from again. According to her father, Maygen's mother was from an honorable house that had once served the Targaryens. Her house had been turned to nothing after Robert's Rebellion, and her mother was wanted for treason. She had only stayed in the Seven Kingdoms long enough to wean Maygen from her breast, and then she had left.

Despite Maygen's unknowing of her family, she was content with the Starks. Among them, she felt loved. She was cared for, and the Stark children accepted her as one of their own. If Maygen fell ill, Lady Catelyn was at her bedside night and day until she was well again. If she wished to learn how to swing a sword, Lord Eddard would put in a word with Rodrik Cassel, and sword lessons she would get. If she fell in love with a stable boy or a traveling knight, then Lord Eddard would speak with the man's family and a wedding would be planned immediately.

She would want for nothing, and that was the promise Lady Catelyn had made to Petyr Baelish.

But the one thing Maygen never would have wished for was an arranged marriage.

House Stark had a second ward. Eight when he was taken, Theon Greyjoy was treated as a brother to Eddard and Catelyn's son, Robb. Theon's father, Balon, had lost his two other sons in his failed rebellion. That had left him with his daughter, Yara, and Theon. Eddard had taken the boy as a ward to raise him right and make sure that when Balon was gone, Theon would be fit to rule Pyke with a fair hand.

Theon remembered his home. That was the reason for his mockery of Maygen. He called her bastard and orphan, though she was legitimized and still had her father. He taunted her with every little flaw he could find, and to him, there were a great many. Maygen had never tried to insult him back, always fearing that he would run and tell Septa Mordane or Lady Catelyn.

Even when the two were fourteen and sixteen, their fighting continued. The insults only increased in their hurtfulness as the children grew into adulthood.

It was because of this that Theon and Maygen never thought they would be betrothed. Lady Catelyn had brought up the idea to Lord Eddard. She thought that perhaps marrying the two would make their fighting stop, or, at least, lessen it. And so, ever since they were eight and ten, Theon and Maygen were betrothed.

The pair had tried to fight it, but they quickly learned that once Catelyn had an idea, she would not forget it. The decision had already been made. Petyr and Balon had agreed to the betrothal. With his position as Master of Coin on the Small Council of King's Landing, Petyr began to set aside special funds to support a wedding. Without the king's knowledge, of course. This was always at the discretion of Lord Varys, the Spider of King's Landing. There was nothing that went on in the Red Keep that Varys was not aware of.

Theon and Maygen never knew when they would be wed. If one of them dared to ask Lady Catelyn or Lord Eddard, they were met with monosyllabic answers that left them anxious and wanting more.

They decided that even if they did marry, they were not obligated to like each other. Both could play pretend and produce a child or two, but it would all just be for show.

So, despite their prior attempts at stopping the betrothal, they begrudgingly accepted the idea.

Neither of them knew, however, just how badly their marriage was going to go.


	2. One

Maygen Baelish was smiling. She was stood between Robb Stark and the bastard son of Lord Eddard, Jon Snow. The two boys, though they were two years older than her, liked having the girl with them.

Maygen looked like an outsider between the two Northern boys. With her dark hair she almost could have looked like a Stark. But her olive skin and brown eyes were of contrast to the Starks pale skin and sterling gray eyes.

Robb had the look of his mother, Lady Catelyn Tully. His hair was red and his eyes were blue, though he held the strong face of his father.

They were an odd trio, but they were completely inserable. Any of the three would kill for the other two without a second thought.

The morning was cold and gray, but that was the common weather at the Northern castle of Winterfell. Patches of snow and slush covered the grounds of the yard. Grass grew sporadically in brown clumps. The people of Winterfell were used to this, but Maygen was was from the South. She found herself shivering beneath her fur cloak, drawing closer to Robb, who was content in nothing but leathers.

They were watching Bran Stark as he practiced with a bow and arrow. Bran was the strange yet perfect mix of Stark and Tully. Brown hair and deep, black eyes. A kind face but a strong jaw. Presently, he was failing spectacularly at hitting a target.

An arrow sailed from Bran's bow, hitting a grain barrel. The boy stomped his foot, groaning. Robb smirked, trying his best to hold back laughter. Jon clapped his hand on Bran's shoulder, offering his half-brother words of encouragment. "Go on, Father's watching. And your mother."

The ten-year-old turned, his black eyes landing on Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn. Catelyn smiled good naturedly at her son, and Eddard have a nod, which Bran returned.

Bran nocked an arrow, aiming carefully.

Nearby, Septa Mordane was doting over Eddard and Catelyn's eldest daughter, Sansa. Their youngest daughter, Arya, watched in annoyance as the Septa grinned at Sansa. "Fine work as always. Well done."

The eleven-year-old didn't understand why she had to be stuck sewing, when Maygen was shooting arrows with the boys. She knew not to complain, however. Septa Mordane got angry if she complained.

Arya looked like Ned. She had black hair and the gray eyes of a pure Stark, the polar opposite to Sansa. She had a pointy face, something Sansa's friend Jeyne Poole was quick to note. Jeyne had given the girl the nickname 'Arya Horseface,' and called her it constantly.

Sansa was the picture of a younger Catelyn. Perfect red hair and wide blue eyes that made her seem so innocent all the time. Arya hated her.

Arya couldn't help but listen to the boys and Maygen. Every time an arrow hit the ground, there was raucous laughter from the yard. She wished she could be out there, not stuck with the daughters of her father's men, pricking her finger with a needle and getting snapped at by an old woman.

Bran strained as he pulled back his bowstring, releasing the arrow high over the wall. Robb looked away, trying to hide his laughter. Jon, on the other hand, laughed openly. Maygen chuckled, squeezing Bran's shoulder. "You were only a little too high," she offered.

Rickon, the youngest Stark, laughed from his perch on a fence post. He had a curious mop of blonde hair and brown eyes. Only six, Maygen treated him like a little brother.

"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Ned asked from the wall. "Keep practicing, Bran. Go on."

Jon lowered again, speaking softly. "Don't think too much, Bran," he encouraged.

Bran nocked the arrow, aiming. "Relax your bow arm," Robb instructed.

"Aim a little lower," Maygen added.

Just as Bran was about to loose his arrow, another came flying. It hit the target dead center. Jon, Robb, Bran, and Maygen spun around. Arya stood, bow in hands. She smiled, curtsying mockingly before dropping the bow. Wood clattered on stone as she broke in to a run, Bran following her closely. "Quick, Bran! Faster!" Robb called.

Maygen's chuckles turned to hearty laughter. Her eyes drifted up to the wall, where Theon Greyjoy had joined Eddard and Catelyn. She was betrothed to Theon, and though she did find him at least a bit handsome, she hated him.

He had short, light brown hair. His teeth were slightly crooked, and he had blue eyes. She offered him a smile, but he looked away, addressing Eddard. "Gods," she muttered to herself. "Why does he have to be such an ass?"

"He's a Greyjoy," Robb shrugged. "He doesn't know any better."

"Yes, and I'm being forced to marry him. Lucky me."

Robb offered her a sympathetic smile, beginning to gather Bran's arrows with Rickon. Jon helped, standing by the barrels and putting away any arrows that were brought to him. He smiled as he worked, but the expression quickly faded when he looked up at Catelyn.

She'd hated him for as long as he could remember. He always tried to brush her off, but she was always there. Always had one word to say about him. Bastard. Maygen was a bastard, too, but she'd been legitimized. Catelyn would never allow him to be a Stark. That was the power she held over him.

Maygen took his arm, looking at Catelyn as well. "My lady," she said kindly.

Catelyn's smile didn't reach her bright blue eyes. She turned away from the pair, following Eddard.

That morning, the boys left with Eddard. It was his job to execute Night's Watch deserters if they found themselves on his lands. This was one of those cases. Bran was only ten, but he'd called the boy to come with him.

Maygen was left her own devices. She and Sansa decided to walk the godswood together, trying to mimic the calls of the birds that resided there.

The godswood was beautiful. Filled with trees of all kinds, and at the center of it, a heart tree. Heart trees were for prayer. Each tree held the face of an old god, carved by the Children of Forest thousands of years before. Maygen liked the godswood. It was peaceful and quiet, and even if she didn't worship the old gods, she felt like there was a strong power at work there. Sansa prayed sometimes, always in silence. Maygen never wanted to know what she prayed for.

When Eddard's party returned, they brought with them six direwolf pups. The pups were small, only the size of a newborn hunting dog. But someday they would grow to the size of horses. Each Stark child and Jon had decided on name's for the pups. All except for Bran.

It was that night that the people of Winterfell learned that King Robert Baratheon was coming. His Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, had died of fever. There was only one thing he could want from Eddard if he were coming all the way North. The King was bringing many members of the royal court. Catelyn decided that Maygen and Theon would be wed during the visit, so their marriage could be blessed by the king. Maygen hoped that he father would be coming with the King, but a brief conversation with Catelyn put the thought out of her mind.

And so, Theon and Maygen prepared themselves for an unloving marriage.


	3. Two

The days leading up to King Robert's arrival were hectic. Maygen and Theon were suddenly forced into new bedrooms, two directly beside each other. Maygen nearly went mad hearing Theon and the whores he snuck into the castle. He had no regard for her; he did as he pleased and didn't care if his bride-to-be was offended. Maygen took to writing her father late in the nights, sending the letters each morning. She never got any response.

When the day finally arrived, everyone dressed in their best clothes. The air had started to grow colder, and as Maygen wrapped herself in a fur cloak, she thought of House Stark's words. Winter is Coming.

The dress she chose for the day was green, a color Sansa and Catelyn agreed looked lovely with her olive skin. She would wear a different dress for the feast, however. That dress was blood red.

Catelyn was in a frenzy. The Starks were in a line from eldest to youngest, with the exception of Rickon, who stood beside his mother. Theon, Jon, and Maygen were behind the Starks. Theon and Maygen were only wards, and Jon was a bastard. They were not permitted to stand among the Stark family. There was only one person missing.

"Where's Arya?" Catelyn was muttering.

She looked at her eldest daughter. "Sansa," she said, "where's your sister?"

Sansa shrugged in response, and Catelyn tsked quietly. Only a few moments later, Arya came running, a helm tottering dangerously on her head. "Hey, hey, hey, hey," Eddard stated.

He took his daughter by the shoulders, taking the helm from her. "What are you doing with that on?" he nudged her toward her spot in the line. "Go on."

She groaned, stepping into her place, shoving Bran as she did so. "Move!" she snapped.

Eddard sighed, handing the helm off to Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's Master at Arms. Rodrik was old and fat, but he was strong as well. He had white, wispy hair and a forked beard that he braided together. Maygen quite liked the old man. He treated her kindly.

Lannister knights filed into the yard, followed closely by a man of the Kingsguard, who led along Prince Joffrey. Joffrey had the look of a Lannister; golden blond hair, an arrogant face, and emerald green eyes. He wore the Lannister colors, not those of his father, Robert Baratheon.

Joffrey's eyes landed on Sansa, and the two shared a smile. Robb glanced between the two, adjusting himself anxiously.

At Joffrey's side was another knight. He was nearly the size of two men, and he rode an all black warhorse. His helm was hammered into the shape of a snarling dog's head; Maygen labeled him as Sandor Clegane, the Hound. He opened the face of his helm, revealing the twisted scars that marked his face. His hair was light brown, and his eyes were deep-set, almost black. He had the start of a beard. His dark eyes scanned the yard, intimidating anyone who dared to meet them.

Next was a wheelhouse. Inside, Queen Cersei was with her younger children, Tommen and Myrcella.

And then there was the king.

He was not what Maygen expected. Yes, he was a large brute of a man, but the mass was all fat. His black hair was to his shoulders, starting to go gray. His eyes were small and black. He was pink. Maygen felt bad for the black stallion that had to carry him.

The people filling the yard kneeled; waiting for Robert to dismount. He needed a stepping stool to do so.

He climbed down, stepping up to Eddard and gesturing for everyone to rise. When they did, he looked over Eddard with disappointment. "Your Grace," Eddard said.

"You've got fat," Robert stated.

Silence fell over the crowd. Maygen only realized it was a joke when Eddard glanced down at Robert's bulging stomach, smirking. They both laughed, embracing. When they pulled away, the king was grinning. "Cat!" he said, throwing his arms around Catelyn.

She didn't share the embrace, but she laughed and smiled. "Your Grace."

He ruffled Rickon's mop of blond hair before moving back to Eddard. "Nine years," he stated. "Why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours."

The queen climbed from her wheelhouse, Tommen and Myrcella at her sides. She was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair that was styled the Southern way, all braids. Her green eyes scanned the Winterfell courtyard with disdain. "Where's the Imp?" Arya asked Sansa.

"Will you shut up?" the older girl retorted.

"Who have we here?" Robert asked, holding out a hand to Robb. "You must be Robb."

Robb nodded respectfully, shaking the king's hand. Ned, Robert moved on to Sansa. "My, you're a pretty one," he noted.

Arya now. He lowered to her height. "Your name is?"

"Arya," she said stiffly.

Bran's turn. Robert smiled. "Oh, show us your muscles," he instructed.

Bran obeyed, flexing his arm. The king laughed. "You'll be a soldier."

Maygen watched as a Kingsguard took off his helm. Jaime Lannister. He looked like an older, wiser Joffrey. Proud, handsome face and blond hair. She had never seen anyone quite as handsome. "That's Jaime Lannister, the queen's twin brother," Arya spoke up.

"Would you please shut up?" Sansa demanded.

Queen Cersei stepped up to Eddard, holding out her hand. He kissed the back of it, nodding. "My Queen."

Catelyn smiled, nodding at Cersei. "My Queen."

"Take me to your crypt," Robert said. "I want to pay my respects."

"We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait," Cersei told her husband.

Robert ignored her, starting for the Winterfell crypt. "Ned," he stated.

Eddard offered the queen an apologetic before following Robert. "Where's the Imp?" Arya repeated.

Cersei cocked an eyebrow at the question, moving to her twin's side. "Where is our brother?" she asked. "Go and find the little beast."

The crowd began to disperse. Maygen stuck near Jon, watching Jaime Lannister with great interest. Jon nudged her shoulder, smiling. "Thinking of calling off your betrothal to Theon?" he teased.

"That's all I think about, Snow," she retorted. "I'm just admiring a very handsome man."

"A very handsome man who can't marry. He's Kingsguard, May. And you are still betrothed to Theon."

She shoved him roughly. "I know that. I'm not stupid, Jon. I'm allowed to look at handsome men."

He rolled his eyes. "Yet you're angry when Theon sneaks whores into the castle."

"That's different!"

"I know. Now get on, we have to prepare for the feast."

Maygen tore her gaze from Jaime, nodding. "Of course."

Jon chuckled as they both wandered off in the direction of their rooms.


	4. Three

Maygen was quiet while her handmaiden, Rose, styled her hair in intricate braids. Rose was a lowborn girl from the South, but she knew how noble ladies did their hair. She thought that giving Maygen a Southern hairstyle would be a compliment to Cersei, who was a major fashion influence in the capitol.

Rose was quite pretty, nineteen years old with white blonde hair and wide gray eyes. Maygen supposed she might be the most beautiful girl in Winterfell.

Maygen winced at the sharp tug Rose gave her hair. "Seven hells, what was that for?" she demanded, and Rose laughed.

"You were leaning again. What are daydreaming about?" Rose asked.

"Jaime Lannister," Maygen admitted after a brief pause.

"The Kingslayer? Gods, Maygen, you've gone mad as Aerys."

"He's so handsome. I can't be the only girl who's noticed that."

"You're betrothed to Theon."

Maygen was tired of being reminded of that. "I know, Rose. I don't need reminding. Jaime is handsome, but he's a member of the Kingsguard and I'm betrothed."

Rose nodded, tying off the final braid. "Good. Now, you're all ready for the feast. Best get going."

Maygen started to stand, when a knock sounded at the door. Rose hurried to the door, peeking through. "Oh, my lord," she said, stepping aside and opening it fully.

Theon stood in the doorway. He wasn't dressed for the feast. Instead, he wore simple leathers that were no different than what he'd wear typically. The only difference was that he wore a pin. A simple gift Maygen had given him when they'd learned of their betrothal, but a kind gesture nonetheless. The pin was painted to look like gold, hammered into the shape of a kraken, the sigil of House Greyjoy. When she'd first given it to him, he'd thrown it in his fireplace with plans to melt it in his mind. Maygen had fled the room crying when he did that. Now, however, she knew that he'd kept it.

"Theon," she said quietly.

He seemed pained when he looked between Rose and Maygen. "Lady Baelish. I would like to escort you to the feast," he said, his face stretching into a smile.

"You're wearing the pin," she commented, not quite willing to let that tiny detail leave her mind.

"I am," he nodded.

She bit down on her lip, smiling. "You told me you were going to melt it down."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I've taken a liking to it. Now, are you going to let me take to you to the feast? I've half the mind to drink myself into a stupor."

Maygen looked back at Rose. "Do you think it's safe?" she teased.

Rose nodded. "Go on. He's your betrothed, and he's actually trying to be nice."

So, Maygen and Theon linked arms, and began to make their way down the hall.

When the pair reached the great hall, the feast was in full swing. King Robert had situated himself in the center of the hall with a group of kitchen wenches, laughing and drinking from a skin of wine. Theon let out a laugh, squeezing Maygen close to his side. "Looks like King Robert has the right idea," he said.

Maygen shoved him playfully. "Don't tell me you're joining him."

He rolled his eyes at that. "You know, on the iron islands we take saltwives. Sure, we have wives of our own, but they get boring after a little while. Iron born can't last only fucking one woman."

Maygen held back a remark about him haven't been on the iron islands since he was eight. "This makes me none the happier about our upcoming marriage," she pointed out.

Theon paused, sighing after a moment. "Fine, then. You want to be a cunt? I won't tell you what I've learned."

Her eyes darkened. "What have you learned?" she demanded.

"Oh, it's nothing really. No concern of yours."

Theon slid his arm free, wandering off toward Robb's table. "I swear to all seven of the gods, Greyjoy, if you don't tell me what the fuck you've learned, I will cut off your cock and feed it to the dogs," she stated, surprising even herself by her brashness.

His blue eyes widened. "Seven hells, Maygen."

"Tell me."

He slowly stepped closer. "Fine. We're to be wed in a week. Lady Catelyn has begun preparations for the ceremony."

"If this is some kind of twisted joke- -" she began.

"It's not. I promise, Maygen. That's why I was trying to act kind to you."

She nodded stiffly. "I'm sitting down. Sit with me if you like, but I don't mind if you sit with Robb. In fact, I'd prefer that."

Theon nodded as well. "I'll sit with Robb," he agreed.

Maygen watched as he made his way to Robb, sitting down. Almost instantly, he was laughing and drinking wine. "Ass," she muttered to herself.

She managed to find a mostly empty table, sitting down and leaning on her elbows. A servant passed by her table, setting down a flagon of wine. Maygen had never had a taste for the stuff, but she didn't care about that now. Her fingers curled around the handle, and she filled the glass before her to the brim. She took a long sip, the sweet taste of berries near overwhelming to her. Nonetheless, she drained the cup completely within a few sips.

She scanned the great hall, smiling at people as they passed. Many knew her as a kind girl, and she had a reputation to keep up. It didn't matter if she felt as if her head was going to burst with every thing running through it. She filled the cup a second time, but did not drink from it. Already, she wanted the feast to be over so she could go to bed. But the feast would not end for a long time. Without thinking, she began to sing. She found that in times of stress, singing helped her calm down.

"'And who are you', the proud lord said, 'that I must bow so low.' Only a cat of different coat, that's all the truth I know. In a coat of gold, or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp my lord, as long and sharp as yours. And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere. And now the rains weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall, and not a soul to hear."

As she finished the song, she felt a hand on her shoulder. "Was that you singing? I don't think I've heard that song sang so well," a man's voice said.

She spun around, meeting the emerald green eyes of Jaime Lannister. "Oh," she said softly. "Yes, it was."

He smiled, sitting down beside her. "Do you the story behind that song?"

"Of course. Wait, sorry. That sounded rude. Yes, I do know the story."

Jaime Lannister nodded, smiling a charming smile. "What's your name?"

"Maygen. Maygen Baelish. My father is- -" she began.

"The Master of Coin," Jaime finished.

"Yes, exactly."

"Your father is an interesting man. Have you ever met him?"

Maygen's face grew red at the question. "No, I haven't," she mumbled.

"Well, he only gave you as a ward when you were four. Surely you remember him," Jaime urged.

"I really don't. Lady Catelyn has told me about him, but I don't remember- -" she started to say.

"And you don't remember your mother, either? Must be a sad life. And you are a bastard, as well."

She continued growing steadily redder as Jaime spoke. "I've been legitimized," she whispered.

"Yes, I suppose you have been. Now, you must excuse me. I have to speak with my sister."

He rose from the table, hurrying off. Maygen furrowed her eyebrows, letting out a sigh. She had absolutely no idea what had just happened. She just knew that Jaime Lannister was not as kind as she'd expected.


End file.
